


Death Meets Kim Hwan

by Chajingjing



Category: VIXX
Genre: Don't Take This Too Seriously, Humor, Just a fun prompt haha, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 09:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chajingjing/pseuds/Chajingjing
Summary: Kim Hwan has an encounter with Death. Unfortunately for Death, things don't go as planned.





	Death Meets Kim Hwan

**Author's Note:**

> Haha summary explains everything. Don't take it too seriously I kind of just wrote this on a whim thanks to a suggestion by @chicbabyleo-- TY BBY!! It was fun to write though, and as always THANK YOU so much for reading... 😂😂

 

It was a Monday. Not that time held any weight in _his_ world-- but from time to time he liked to acknowledge the odd ways mortals tried to define their short, chaotic existence. It was cute, watching them bustle about after a happy weekend (another amusing concept) and complain, as if by labeling this meaningless moment in time as a _‘Monday’_ made it somehow inherently worse.

 

To put it plainly, Death was bored.

 

Stalking through the night, slipping through the shadows, he searched for a quick diversion. On a night like this, cold and dark underneath the shadow of a new moon, anyone would do. He passed a young group of university students, giggling as they stumbled out of a bright orange _pojangmacha_ tent _,_ then a lone businessman heading home to his family, shivering underneath his invisible gaze. All decent prospects, but--

Suddenly, Death stopped. He turned around. _What_ was this feeling? Such misery, such self pity-- it was nothing short of _exquisite_. Here, truly, was someone deserving of his services.

 

Unfurling his black feathered wings, he soared up, up, up above the city’s rooftops. Circling the patchwork of geometric shapes below, Death focused in on the poor tortured soul’s location. He licked his lips in anticipation, imagining the scene waiting for him. Perhaps a gambler, drunk and broken, losing his very last penny-- or a widower kneeling before his late wife’s portrait, willing to give _anything_ to join her. Gleefully, he descended closer and closer, until he found himself landing softly outside of a mid-scale Japanese restaurant.

 

It wasn’t what Death expected, but then again, predictability wasn’t exactly his forte either.

 

He slid through the establishment’s doors and slunk around around the room, feeling the gloom and misery grow ever stronger, until he was standing at the head of a long table in the middle of  the room occupied by a rather mismatched bunch of uniformed professionals. A loud, gregarious man in his fifties was cheerfully ordering more drinks, while the rest of the group was engaged in conversation amongst themselves. At the far end of the table sat a young man with curly black hair. His shoulders were hunched over, and his eyes were lidded in either inebriation, boredom, or-- upon closer examination-- perhaps _both_.

Death rounded the table until he was standing over the man. He looked down at him curiously, watching him pick at a rice roll with a heavy sigh. He didn’t appear to have any life threatening conditions or disabilities. He certainly wasn’t grieving, jobless, or poor. In fact, as far as Death could tell, he was simply out for a company dinner with coworkers.

Fascinated, he reached out to brush his fingers against the man’s cheek. Normally, even in this shrouded form, his touch would cause even the strongest, most hearty of men to freeze. Go cold. _Panic_.

 

Instead-- the subject of his interest merely frowned and waved a hand around his ear, as if brushing off a fly. Death leaned in closer, until a cheerful explosion from the older man at the center of the table distracted him.

 

“Hwan, _Kim Hwan,_ ” he said loudly, reaching forward to pour more soju into the young man’s cup. “Our new addition to the loans team! Here-- the rest is for you--!”

Hwan’s head shot back up, and he waved his hands in front of him, eyes opening fully again.

 

“N- No it’s--”

 

“ _Nonsense!_ I insist!!”

 

Hwan’s mouth hung open for a moment as he watched the liquid fill his glass to the brim, then reluctantly he bowed his head and accepted the offering. He winced as he downed the liquor, coughing while he placed the ceramic back next to his plate. Around him, his colleagues offered half hearted cheers-- all except the young woman sitting across from him. She shivered and reached behind her, pulling on her sweater. Hwan ignored the table’s murmured congratulations, straightening his spine as he watched her.

“Hyangsook, you’re cold? Do you want my jacket? Do you want--”

“Here, have mine,” the woman next to her interrupted Hwan, and he scowled, hunching his shoulders once more. Death felt a smile creep across his face.

 

This-- _this_ man was interesting. This was what he needed.

 

For another twenty minutes Death watched as the group finished eating, Hwan’s misery only  increasing after another failed advance towards Hyangsook and an elbow to the side from the well groomed man in his thirties next to him. Finally, their boss reached his limit, and dismissed the small party. Hwan stood from his seat and steadied himself before swinging his work bag over his shoulder, following his co-workers out of the restaurant. After an awkward farewell, he turned and walked alone down the sidewalk. Gliding softly on quiet wings, Death followed.

Two blocks later, Hwan stopped at a bus station and stood in silence, hands shoved into his pockets. Death hovered behind him. It was so tempting, the _perfect_ opportunity to show himself now, to terrify him into running out across the five-lane thoroughfare, but--

 

Not yet.

 

Instead, he trailed behind the bus, then watched the man as he walked up the stairs of his Gangnam apartment building, tripping over his comically large black shoes.

 

“Another late night-- _great_ ,” Hwan groaned while stepping into his small bachelor pad, shoving said shoes off and kicking them to the side. Death slipped through the door behind him before Hwan let it swing shut, then stumbled forward on unsteady legs, that one last celebratory drink finally catching up with him. He dropped his work bag unceremoniously in the middle of his apartment’s main room as he continued to complain.

“...All this and he expects us all to show up on time tomorrow morning? No promotion is worth this torture-- please, just _kill me now…_ ”

 

Death’s sharp eyebrows shot up in amusement. When was the last time he’d been given such an opportunity? This man was practically doing his job _for_ him. Seizing the moment, he whirled around Hwan and stood in front of him, spreading his wings and opening his arms as he revealed himself.

Kim Hwan stopped in his tracks. He froze, looking the figure in front of him up and down, taking in his icy grey hair and cold, pale skin. His timeless garb and towering black wings, now stretched out, filling the rest of the room.

Then, he wrinkled his nose and frowned.

 

“Who the hell are _you?_ ”

 

Death’s haughty expression wavered as Hwan didn’t gasp, didn’t scream, didn’t fall to his knees in his presence. Instead, he simply stood, staring back at the entity with a mix of disgust and annoyance on his face.

Lowering his wings, Death stepped slowly forward, voice booming.

 

 _“I’m the cry that suddenly stops in the night, the chill before your final breath. I’m your end, Kim Hwan. I am_ Death. _”_

 

Hwan snorted.

 

“What’s that, a line from _Hamlet_ or something?”

 

Death frowned.

“You’re not fearful? You’re not scared? I could take your life right now, I could cast you forever into _an oblivion of--_ ”

 

“Sure. Fine,” Hwan said with a long sigh, leaning his head back and dropping his shoulders. “At least I won’t have flier duty tomorrow, or have to piece together a bag of mis-shredded documents that were by the machine _anyway_. Besides, my head hurts-- that will go away, right? Or should you wait until tomorrow? I don’t want to spend an eternity in ‘oblivion’ with a hangover...”

 

“You’ll be dead.”

 

Hwan shrugged.

“Obviously, but I’ve never _been_ dead before. How am I supposed to know what it’s like being dead? Or dying? Or that there was a typo on the fliers Team Leader Byeon wanted me to hand out last Thursday? Why does everyone just expect me to _know_? It’s not fair,” he whined. Death stepped forward again.

 

“You won’t have to worry about that-- you won’t have to worry about anything once you embrace--”

 

“Wait,” Hwan interrupted him again. He walked around Death, shoving his wings aside, and picked up a small hand mirror from his desk. He turned on his lamp and started picking through his hair, smoothing the curls that had fallen out of place during his trip home.

“Do you think I should change too? I didn’t know Manager Cha was going to drag everyone out for dinner when I decided on this shirt this morning. The blue striped one suits me better-- I think I’d rather be found in that. With my yellow tie. What do you think?”

 

Death watched him as he pouted into the mirror. What did _he_ think? Was the man serious? Still, he had to admit, his current brightly spotted orange and green shirt was a bit on the eccentric side. Maybe the striped shirt did look--

Wait. _What ?_ He shook his head and refocused.

 

“I bet Hyangsook would have let me walk her home if I’d been wearing _that_ ,” Hwan muttered to himself in the meantime. “It’s all Hyejung’s fault. Trying to set her up with that accountant-- what an obviously horrible match…”

 

After Hwan finished preening through his hair he turned around. Death moved in, swooping forward, unwilling to wait any longer. The mortal was surely just stalling for time now, holding onto these last precious seconds of his miserable, insignificant life. He leaned over Hwan, bringing one hand up to his cheek, stroking the soft skin before hooking his thumb underneath his jaw. Guiding Hwan’s face upwards he started to close the space between their lips, ready to gift the man his final wish. Hwan looked back up at him, confused.

 

Then, he rolled his eyes.

 

“Oh. This is going to be one of _these_ dreams?”

 

Death stopped. A dream? The man thought this was all just _a dream_? Did he not feel his power? The way the ground froze beneath him? The way his very presence chilled the room?  Hwan was blinking back at him face scrunched together in thought.

 

“Weird… but okay,” he shrugged and leaned in. This time it was Death who pulled back, Death who stepped backwards in shock. Disbelief. Hwan’s jaw dropped as he was sent stumbling forward. When he scrambled back to his feet his eyes were wide, teeth clenched together.

“You know, I get this enough when I’m awake,” he said, seething. Death mustered all his might, all his power, spreading his wings again. The room darkened as the bulb of Hwan’s lamp shattered, but the man ignored him, crossing his arms and huffing in annoyance.

 

In that moment, Death considered taking him despite his naive misunderstanding of the situation at hand. He considered grabbing his throat, showing him his true strength, making him pay for his disrespect. He considered tearing him limb from limb, leaving him an impossible, humiliating mess.

It was tempting, it was _so_ tempting, but the man had angered him enough. He didn’t deserve to die in such blissful ignorance, thinking he would simply wake when sunlight streamed through his windows once more. Death wanted him to feel the full weight, the full terror of his life slipping away underneath his lips-- and for that satisfaction, it seemed he must wait.

He walked closer to Hwan, already simmering in self-induced misery, and brushed a single lock of hair from his forehead.

 

“Until we meet again, _Kim Hwan_.”

 

Hwan looked up, uncertainty flashing through his eyes for the first time, but in an instant Death was gone. Standing alone and bewildered in the darkness he frowned, looking down.

 

“Hmm? What’s this?”

 

He cocked his head, curious, then knelt--

 

Looking at the single black feather resting at the edge of his feet.

 

 

.

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS AGAIN!! Comments and kudos are appreciated but you can also find me on twt @chajingjing <333


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